The Bunnies Are Breeding
by Stephfunky
Summary: A series of Harry Potter crossover drabbles. Slash, het, character death, penis, etc.
1. Ouran High School Host Club 1

Tamaki stared intently into the glassy, half circle eyes of Usa-chan. One long, pink ear was dangling down to the side of it's little bunny face.

Shifting uncomfortably, Huni held his beloved bunny closer to his slender chest. The other, taller blond leaned closer, his nose a scant few centimeters away from the dark pink embroidered nose of the stuffed bunny. It stared back with wide, blank emerald eyes.

"Tama-chan, what're you doing?"

The room was deathly quiet with the host club in its entirety and their guests watching intently as Tamaki stared down a stuffed toy.

"Its alive," Tamaki answered, followed by the tittering of 'princesses' who thought him to be joking.

Haruhi scoffed. "You're ridiculous sempai." the cross-dressing girl muttered darkly, offering a smiling girl to her right a fresh cup of tea.

Tears sprang to Tamaki's wide violet eyes as he pulled back violently, spinning in place to face the dark haired girl.

"NOOOOOOoooOOOOOOOoooooOOOOOO! That's cruel! Daddy's serious, that bunny is alive and evil!"

"Hari-chan is not evil!" Huni answered indignantly, nuzzling his chin into the top of the bunny's head.

"Who?" several voices questioned.

Huni lifted up the bunny to present it to the room in general. "My grandma Minevra said that was his name when she gave him to me!"

**A.N: **_So this the first of what will hopefully be a hundred crossover oneshots, following in the pattern of the 'If wishes were~' bandwagon. I wanna continue some, some have no chance of being turned into a legit story whatsoever. This is one of the ones I wanna continue. Like really bad. And yes, Harry is Usa-chan in this story. In an ideal world this is meant to be a Huni/Harru pairing in which Huni is the dom... dunno how that would work. But! I love Ouran/Hp crossovers, so you can expect a bunch of these in this venture especially ones where Harry is paired with huni or Nekozawa as those are my two favourite pairing. This felt appropriate as the first chapter, cuse I'm punny. Anywho~ most will focus on Harry, but not all! I've already got two or three starring Sirius and one of Hermoine (in the Jyu-oh-sei world for those of you who know the series, LOL! No more books for her!)._


	2. Xmen 1

Logan felt his throat tighten almost instantly. He dropped his fork and used the previously full hand to rub his throat – nervously peeking at the professor from the corner of his eye. He neither noticed nor cared that the entire room was now staring at him quite openly, younger students glancing back to the upperclassmen as if unsure they should watch. The older students ( Rouge especially it seemed) had no such qualms.

"You what?" he murmured, sure he'd heard wrong. The entire room strained to hear the professor's answer, subtly long since lost.

"Used your dna to find out if it matched any on police records."

Everyone leaned forward, as if of a single collective and very nosy mind, silently urging him on.

"I found a match," the bald man said slowly, taking a bite of his Shepard's pie. Logan absently wondered how the professor could stand to eat while being watched so very intently, but discarded it. "It seems you were arrested when you were seventeen. Indecent exposure. (There were titters of giggling throughout.) According to the report you claimed your name was Fucka Pig. (Louder, less awkward, laughter greeted this statement.)You were arrested with your brothers Ima, Youra, and Eata."

Professor X paused to take another bite and look around at his chuckling audience with the same affectionate air he did all his students.

"Apparently you were on a school field trip to the Grand Canyon and your brothers and yourself decided to go streaking. Your names is James Logan Potter and you were born in Godric's Hollow, England on April 21st, 1966. You graduated from Hogwarts Boarding School and went on to take a job as a police officer – or auror as your particular brand is called. You married Lily Evans and you both were murdered Halloween 15 years ago. Lily is dead, you – obviously- are not. You also have a 16 year old son named Hadrian."

Silence.

Then, "SIRIUS ORION BLACK! I'm going to kill you!"

* * *

**A.N:** _Obviously this is wildly AU considering Logan is actually far far far older than James Potter (who frankly was mostly likely born right around 1956ish), and his actualy name is James Wolfei I believe. But eh~ fudged a few things for this bunny like the time space continuim and possibly dna technology. Oh well! This is and will always a beloved bastard child of min and would idealy be entirely from Logan's point of view, although young Harry would come on the scene as well as Logan's 'brothers' Sirius and Remus._

_Just realised that if James was born in '66 he'd be the same age as my mother... I was just basing that off the desire to have James be 16 in '82. So um... congrats on also being 16 in '82 mum? I know she was a model by that point, so I can't hep but wonder what terrible fashion she wore then..._


	3. Death Note 1

When the picture first appeared on L's desk, carefully cropped to block just enough of the occupants' faces, the dark haired man seemed annoyed.

He shot dirty looks at Watari every time he spied the elderly man but never said a thing about it. Watari, in turn, spoke not in reference to the photo or its mysterious appearance.

Still, L could be found on the rare occasion that a fine mix of an extended lack of sleep and what the tired eyed man claimed was a sever sugar decency, speaking in low murmurs to the photo. He'd ask the only girl in the portrait, a slender figure with long brushed out brown curls, her opinion on the latest happenings in the case with his dark green eyes focused on the space above where the picture was cropped – presumably imagining her eyes. An extremely tall, bean poll of a man with a long freckled arm slung easily around the shoulders of a slightly slumped man to whom L never spoke was often questioned about some sport in an ironic tone of voice which clearly said the pale, dark haired detective did not actually expect an answer.

Still, he asked.

The picture did not answer.

It was only in the darkest, latest hours of the night when most of the investigation team had been tucked in for several hours the only exceptions being L, who never laid to rest before four, and Light, who refused to rest before L did, that L would touch the photo. He would clasp it in both hands, the only thing Light had ever seen him actually touch with more than his fingertips, and stare down at the people pictured with desperate eyes.

"I miss you Hermoine. I miss you Ron." L would say in a voice just above a whisper before setting it face down on the desk.

The photo never answered, but every morning it would be face up again.

* * *

**A.N:**_ Hey there lovies~ this is one of those ones that'll never be continued. It's actually a stand alone story I think Hmmm~ _

_Anyway- Thank you my dear Sabaku no Sable and Stalker of Stories for the info correction for the last chapter. Wolverine's name is James Howlett and James Potter was actually canon-ly born in March 1960. Next chapter will be a Kyouya/Harry story for Catzi so keep your eyes out for it tomorrow!_


	4. Ouran High School Host Club 2

His father, Kyouya felt, was far more in touch with his feminine side than he ought to. The older man's instinctive response when faced with something, anything that displeased him was to slap it. It was for this reason that when his father discovered his... ahem _sexual preferences_ (due entirely to Tamaki's big, loud, and often irritating mouth) and he did not find himself on the receiving end of what could only aptly be described as a bitch slap, he expected nothing short of a quick and painless death.

The man had turned and immediately left without a single word and Kyouya knew it was to either rally to have the lethal hanging of one's third son legalized or to hire a hit man. Considering that no amount of money or political pull could possibly convince any politician anywhere to legalize murder, Kyouya had half a mind to give his father Kasanoda-san's number. Being the heir of a powerful gang the boy would most likely have a skilled hit man on call who could easily dispose of him and the red head would likely appreciate the business and repay it by visiting Haruhi at the host club which in turn would boost the cross-dresser's business by as much as 22 percent.

The fact that Kyouya himself would be dead was accepted with the same clinical disregard as any other obstacle in his plans.

Therefore, the young man was rightly surprised when no less than three days later he found himself sitting in the extremely formal, only used once before sitting room with his father perched on the sofa immediately to his right as the older man explained in a very finite terms that he was now engaged.

Across the room, his younger sister and mother (who he had never seen so much as smile before) giggled in a manner that was far too annoyingly _female_ as the strikingly handsome Sirius Black (age 36, born June 23, 1969, blood type O positive) charmed them with stupid, nonsensical joke after stupid, nonsensical joke. His father made a disgusted noise softly and Kyouya agreed for a moment before being entirely struck by the fact that his father had in allowed him to hear such a human sound.

"I have always wanted our two families joined," his father muttered softly and the glasses wearing teen found himself entirely too shocked to respond. "The Ootari family and the Potter family. James Potter and I were _friends (_the elder man's tone suggested anything but) in our youth and I have felt the merging of our families to be in the best interests of us both. I had hoped to have James' orphaned son (the absolute blase manner in which James' and his nameless wife's death was mentioned confirmed Kyouya's suspicions of their so called 'friendship') marry your sister, but his _guardian," _They both took the moment to shoot the still charming man half dirty half exasperated looks. "claimed that he would not allow his ward to enter into any marriage contract with a woman as the boy was not attracted to them."

It went unsaid as to why his father hadn't simply forced one of his sons into the contract regardless of their preferences. Only a stupid man would throw away the chance at more heirs to the family name, no matter how much a union between two families was desired.

This problem, however, was solved by his own homosexuality.

With this sudden conclusion, Kyouya suddenly felt on much more even ground. His father had not entered him in this marriage contract with hope for Kyouya's happiness but rather used his preferences as means to achieve his own desired end. All was right with this world.

"It is due to you loud friend's exclamations (and oh if words could kill, the tone of his father's words alone would slay Tamaki quite painfully) that I realized young Harry Potter could serve as _your_ bride."

Kyouya would have pointed out that in a same sex marriage wherein both partners were male such as his father was trying to arrange they would both, in fact, be grooms. The words however, never quite made it past his lips as at just that moment a young boy, perhaps a head or so taller than Haruhi entered the room to immediately be pounced upon on by Black.

"Here he is, here he is! This, my dear ladies, (Black glanced to the two men sitting awkwardly on the couch before tacking on a quick 'and gentlemen'.) is the beautiful godson I was telling you about!" Sirius Black crowed to the room, filling the entirely too large space with his booming, ecstatic voice.

Beautiful was not quite the word Kyouya would have used, although he could not immediately draw up any better off the top of his head. The boy (supposedly one Harry Potter: age 15, born July 31st, 1990, blood type A negative)had a light golden tan with a mop of messily curly black hair covering most of his face as the boy kept his head bowed downwards.

Sirius tutted softly, gripping Harry's chin to lift his head. "Come on baby cub, don't hide your pretty eyes."

The man continued to whisper something in Harry's ear, which finally caused the boy to flutter open his eyes with a soft smile.

It was as those eyes, more vibrant and beautiful a green than any emerald money could buy (and Kyouya knew as he had, in the past, seen many of the most expensive emerald the world had to offer) meet his own slightly narrowed eyes with the softest of smiles turning at soft pink lips that a more appropriate word for his new 'bride' came to mind.

"Mine."

* * *

**A.N:**_ I'll have you know that this is in my documents as Fuckingbunny, cuse this fucking bunny pounced me like a puma. I was going to wait until later to post this but figured, eh - it's 1:07 am, why not? So here you are dear Catzi- a Kyouya/Harry fic, which I feel you should know is by far the longest chapter thus far. Good day and good night my dears._

**_EDIT:_**_ Which reminds me, I bumped both Harry and Sirius' birthdays up ten years to better mesh with the Ouran timeline._


	5. Ouran High School Host Club 3

**Dear The Iza,**

**I see your challenge and respond accordingly.**

**~ ((I tried to do a heart here, but ff won't let me. So, imagine the sparkliest heart you can here))**

* * *

Yoshio Ootori did not – as many likely expected – care for looks over intelligence in a person. Money could fix ugly, and while you can't fix stupid with enough money you could pay people to think for you. No, he valued strength.

A weak person, no matter how beautiful or intelligent, was just as -if not more- disgusting to him. It was for this reason that the obvious choice for his heir was always, always Kyouya. After all- what good was a beautiful heir (which was all his second son was good for) or an intelligent heir ( his first son's strong suit) if they were certain to roll over at the first challenge?

Strength was the trait he desired most in all people. It was the trait he valued most, and as such the people who had it in spades were most valuable to him. Such people were collected like priceless pieces of artwork, each drawn into his family through any means necessary.

He was already well on his way to obtaining the Fujioka girl as Kyouya's bride, her father far more open to the option of an arranged marriage than Yoshio would have thought (apparently anything to keep her from the Souh boy, a sentiment he understood entirely). It was too late for him – his father had been a foolish man who valued beauty above all and so he found himself wed to a gorgeous but absolutely idiotic and silly woman – but he would see that Kyouya had a proper wife who could and would stand by him.

From time to time Yoshio had considered taking on a mistress, as divorce while certainly socially acceptable, was not acceptable in _his_ family, but therein laid a problem. The only woman worth taking on as such an intimidate thing was a strong woman and no strong woman would allow herself to be a kept woman. It was respectable and Yoshio was half convinced that any who said yes to being kept like some pet would no longer be desirable to him. So he lived, unhappy but tolerable enough, in a catch 22.

Then a beautiful, black haired man broke his nose.

One moment Yoshio had been intimidating one of the most brilliant doctors in his employ, one Mrs Hermoine Granger (so young too, she only about 10 years older than his youngest. 29, practically a baby in the world of neuroscience), into transferring to his main facility in Tokyo from her current home in London. She was adamant about staying put, her husband (whose name she had not taken when they wed – how interesting) had his career here, her children were settled here, her family – her _life_ – was in London.

His well placed words and cloak and dagger manner of threatening the young woman was working well and Yoshio nearly had her signing away her life in London in the form of an airtight contract when she asked -

"This doesn't mention my family." She muttered allowed, scanning through the complicated language quickly the ensure she had understood it properly.

"What of your family? I pay _you_ – not them." His sneer could be heard clearly through his words and Yoshio knew this was the moment. He had purposefully written the woman's family out of the contract as a test. He saw no point on keeping her in his employ – no matter how startlingly brilliant she was – if she couldn't stand up for herself. Self-conviction was one of the most important traits needed in her field and Yoshio would not pay a sub-par woman to sully his strong name.

She floundered and Yoshio's hopes for her slipped.

"But – I -"

Ah- he might as well leave now. Yoshio gathered up his coat, not bothering to take the contract back from her as it was entirely useless without his signature. He stood easily and made his way to the door, not bothering to speak to the stuttering woman until he reached the doorway.

"Please consider yourself unemployed, I expect this office cleared by six pm sharp."

"What- but I..." Oh – she looked on the brink of tears now. How... disappointing. "Because I won't leave my family for this job?"

Yoshio did not answer, instead giving her a disparaging look. Mentally, he made a disgusted noise (obviously one such as he, from such a dignified family did not make such sounds aloud) and turned straight into scowling green eyes and a strong, clenched fist.

Blood was the first thing he noticed and he dropped his briefcase and coat to immediately to help hamper it.

The green eyed man roughly placed a black handkerchief against his bloody nose in his hands, his words undermining his strangely kind actions.

"You right arse! How dare you try to fire Hermoine for something like that-"

Such big, beautiful eyes lit with such an angry fire.

"You deserve to be strung up by your toes in the dingiest dungeons, you worthless-"

The other man was just a head or so shorter than him with a finely muscled frame and wild black hair.

"I have half a mind to hand you right over to -"

So much strength, tampered by an overly kind nature (if the fact that the man was now helping to tend to the very nose he'd broken while Mrs. Granger sat by – apparently entirely too shocked by the situation on as a whole) and such a handsome face.

Had he been given the choice, this would be his bride.

The other man continued cursing him (rather creatively and in what Yoshio had counted as at least seven languages), entirely unaware of the absolute desire in the other man's gaze.

"Would you be at all open to being my mistress?"

The green eyed man paused, the light catching his face just so to highlight his strong jaw line and high cheekbones. His eyes, such an amazingly vibrant emerald color, burned with barely repressed fire.

Beautiful.

Then the man punched him again. "I am no one's _pet_," he hissed through clenched teeth, a light red flush coloring the bridge of his nose.

Yoshio was smitten. "Marry me then? There's just the small matter of my soon to be ex-wife."

* * *

**A.N.: **_Oh me oh my, two chapters in a single day. I'm in a flighty, drabblish sort of mood today so you may be able to expect at least one last chapter on this today.  
_

_This chapter goes to The Iza, who challenged me. I LOVE a good challenge and this was a bit of one - mostly because the only thing I know of Kyouya's father is that he's an asshole... I didn't even know he had a name until I looked it up. Speaking of names, I may have mispelled Kyouya's family name last chapter~ I'm not entirely sure but in case I did it's Ootori. _

_Also~ lots of thanks again to those of you who helped me out with info corrections and suggestions in previous chapters. I don't understand why people are also so nervous about it though - I live for constructive critisim. And why would I ever be upset that you're trying to help me from looking like a totaly noob? I dunno._

___Huh. Anywho ~ challenge me if you dare BD._


	6. Durarara! 1

**WHUTDUCELEAVEIZAYAALONEDAMIT**

"Iiiizaaaaayaaaaaa-kuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!"

Harry paused for a moment, watching in a one part amusement one part shock as the previously bustling street suddenly became desolate and silent but for the deep pants of a man's labored breathing. What the hell?

He turned to look in the direction from which the angry yell had come to find... was that a vending machine?

A somewhat insane part of his personality that Hermoine had long since dubbed Psychopath Harry was amused to see such a heavy item flying and half wondered what other feats of strength the blond man that Harry could just see around the flying machine, huffing and puffing and glaring like he was the scum of the earth, could manage.

Then CONSTANT MOTHER FUCKING VIGILANCE kicked in and Harry dropped to his stomach just in time to avoid massive brain damage and a possibly detached head. Oh wasn't that breeze brushing through his short, messy hair just pleasant? It ruffled his curly locks just so and Harry would have really enjoyed the cooling feeling on such a stuffy day if hadn't been for the four hundred pound vending machine brushing through his hair like the lover he hadn't had in almost a year.

He'd have to send Mad-Eye a thank you note as Harry was entirely sure that if it had not been for the man's highly enthusiastic, borderline homicidal training during 'Auror Boot Camp' his pretty little face would've been on the side of a vending machine. And not in the good way.

The green eyed man jumped to his feet, only to immediately be forced into a barrel roll to avoid an elephant coming his way. A fucking elephant.

Really?

Psychopath Harry cackled.

"Didn't I tell you," the man – whose voice was surpringly deeper than Harry had expected – paused to pull a street sigh, concrete lump meant to hold it in the ground and all, out of the ground and hefted it like an oversized baseball bat. "to stay out of Ikebukuro you fucking flea?"

"I'm afraid I've never meet you before in my life," Harry replied perkily, a good fight always put him in a _fantastic_ mood.

"Funny." The man replied. Obviously not that funny though as the next thing Harry knew, he was playing a fucked up game of skip rope as the blond repeatedly swung the traffic sign at him. Maybe he just wasn't one for jokes?

"No seriously – I have no idea who you are."

"You're a terrible liar Izaya!"

"My name's not Izaya!"

The man paused mid-swing, a good thing too as Harry had miscalculated where the blond would swing next and would have ended up jumping gut first right into the street sign. Were all city ordained traffic signs this sharp up close? That seemed rather dangerous.

"Okay- what's your game this time? Are you cosplaying or some shit?"

"No game – I'm not your man."

"Well you clothes are a little different than usual-"

Harry adjusted the obscenely high collar of his currently unbuttoned black coat and said nothing.

"But your face looks the same! You have the same hair the same skin the same..." The blond paused, marching to stand just before Harry and glaring down at the significantly shorter man with the sign slung over his shoulders again. His face turned ashen. "Your eyes are green."

"My eyes are very green," Harry confirmed with a slight smirk.

"Izaya's eyes are red."

"Mine are not."

"You're prettier than he is too-"

"You're not so bad yourself."

That one-liner seemed to stun the blond into a brainless stupor. What had no one ever hit on the man before? Honestly. Harry sighed, long and melodramatic. Why were the pretty blond ones always so stupid? They were his favorite!

The dark haired man considered his companion for a moment, head tilted to the side, considering before his mind sudden was made. For once, it sided with Psychopath Harry. So Harry did just as his entirely insane, semi-suicidal side demanded.

He kissed the blond man.

Just a swift little peck really, but Psychopath Harry knew it would be enough to plant the seed of interest. If things went his way, his lover-less dry spell would be broken and Mr. L. Hand could retire for a bit.

Unknowingly grinning like the maniac he supposedly was a dead ringer for, Harry scampered away from the shock frozen blond taking just enough time to call out one last line. "You should be more careful by the way! Throwing around heavy shit like that, you might break something! Remember to drink your milk!"

The blond stared.

**

* * *

**

**Omake**

Shizou, as Harry had finally learned his name after several encounters (most of which consisted of Shizou mistaking Harry for Izaya, throwing some obscenely large shit at the smaller man, and then being shamelessly sexually harassed by said man), looked away from his playful green gaze, staring instead at the half burnt cigarette.

He absently took a drag as if only just remembering what the cancer stick was for.

"I hate violence, I just - I have trouble with my anger."

"Ever considered yoga? I heard it helps _and_ it can make you _really_ flexy too~"

The blond stared.

* * *

**A.N.:**_ Ahhhh I am posting alot today aren't I? Oh well, like I said I'm in a drabble writting mood today and I've got nothing better to do so why not right? _

_This one's in my document manager as Shameless Flirt. Gotta love ShamelessFlirt!Harry. This entire chapter was inspiried by the omake, which came to me whilst reading an Izaya/Mikado fic at three am this morning. So yeah~ I'm loving on this one actually..._

_And to all of you who issued challenges - you can expect them up in the next few days so keep your eyes out for them!~~~ Oh and I was asked what I meant by challenge. By challenge I mean anything. Literally. If there's anything you've ever wanted to read crossover wise just lemme know and I'll try and do it for you!_

_EDIT: To protect Izaya, inserted linebreak._

_EDITED AGAIN: WHUT DUCE LEAVE HIS NAME DAMN IT!_

_EDITED AGAIN AGAIN: Victory is mine._


	7. Naruto 1

**Dearest Phantom Feline,**

**I will probably need theraphy after this, but I take your challenge.**

**~ ((Unicorns fart sparkles. That's what Edward Cullen in. A giant unicorn fart. The more you know~~~))**

**

* * *

**

Sasuke's heart rate was dangerously slow, Naruto could hear it clearly and with every slowed struggling heartbeat the blond could hear his own blood moving faster. Sakura was crying and holding the dark haired boy's body closer and he could feel his pulse in the life-giving veins in his neck. In his mind's eye, Naruto could see the fire red, boiling hot power of the Kyubii no kitsune slipping through the bars of the gates and melding with his own power. His anger at this man who dared hurt his most precious people blinded him, and for once Naruto did not care for the slowly breaking seal.

And then he heard someone giggling wildly.

"Ah – ah – ah," suddenly there was a long slender finger waggling to a broken, asymmetrical beat. Each finger in the hand it belonged to was decorated with at least two bands of black each, one at the base of each finger and one at the middle knuckle. Naruto also noticed that the nails were _sharp_ like vicious claws and painted a vibrant, dangerous looking green. The same color as the big, kohl lined eyes peering at him.

_This man in poison. _His mind supplied in a calmly hysterical sort of way. Poison was unstoppable. It could come through your food, your drink, the very air you breathed. Naruto wanted to grab Sakura and Sasuke and _run._

The man, his smile wide and toothy as if he knew exactly what Naruto had been thinking, whipped back from his slightly crouched position violently, his long wild curls flying about in a manner that seemed completely detached of the actions of the body to which they belonged. They settled about the short and slender build of the poison man, like a dark cloud forever following him, and the man made a clucking noise in the back of his throat.

"You best keep that beast under lock and key little fox," the man sang prettily and Naruto felt the same dash of panic he always did when Kyubii was mentioned. "You know what they say~ absolute power corrupts absolutely. Besides, doesn't boiling flesh just sound absolutely _uncomfortable?_"

Was that... was that a threat?

"Nope, just a warning~~~" The man skipped backwards, never swaying his eyes from Naruto's until he reached Orochimaru who was, apparently, his target. "Oro, darling~" he sang, swinging himself around the taller, paler man so he stood behind Orochimaru. He snaked his arms around Orochimaru, who was fighting vigilantly to hide the absolute horror he felt, holding the man possessively. The poison man rested his head under the snake sanin's right arm after a moment of trying and failing to reach Orochimaru's shoulder, staring at Naruto with a playful smile.

"I-" Naruto stuttered and trailed off awkwardly, not at all sure where to go with this suddenly dramatically changed situation.

"No one likes soggy french toast little fox."

_What?_

"Hari," Orochimaru finally spoke, trying the push the now identified man's arms off. Hari did not budge and instead held tighter, twisting his head at a uncomfortable looking angle to look up at Orochimaru's face. Naruto could hear the resulting cracking of the bones in Hari's neck across the clearing and flinched. "why are you here?" Orochimaru was obviously trying to sound angry but there simply was no hiding the sound of absolute panic.

Hari smiled and kissed Orochimaru's clothed chest. "Oh~ but darling I couldn't leave you all alone! There are foxes, and wolves, and little one tailed ground hog things oh my~"

Orochimaru failed quite spectacularly at hiding the full body shiver. "You must stop following me about Hari."

Hari's impossibly green eyes watered and he began to pout quite impressively. "But dearest! The little teapot won't be contented with his red head for much longer and soon he and the silverware will try to take you from me! How will you defend yourself without me? Do you know how to battle an endless horde of spoons? The little fuckers are almost as tricky as that damnable albino ferret back from the land of men who wear skirts."

_**What!**_

"Besides, I do so enjoy watching the pretty blood you spill," Hari licked his lips slowly, going on tip toe to whisper something softly in Orochimaru's ear.

It takes a special sort of person to sound entirely deadly while speaking of battling spoons, and Naruto felt they were better off not knowing said person. He began trying to help Sakura and the passed out Sasuke up, hoping to get the hell out of there and fast.

Hari giggled again, this time huskily, and nipped the upper edge of Orochimaru's ear. Then he cupped the snake sanin's crotch. Orochimaru moaned softly through gritted teeth and _HOLY MOTHER THEY NEEDED TO GET AWAY __**NOW!**_

As Naruto ran away, dragging an entirely unconscious Sasuke and whining Sakura he heard Orochimaru murmur, "Why do you follow me Hari?"

Hari must have done _something_ because the snake sanin moaned again and Naruto wanted to commit suicide just for the fact that he knew what Orochimaru's 'happy time' moans sounded like.

"You have such pretty hair~" Hari sang in answer.

* * *

**A.N:**_ I feel dirty. And so does Naruto. Sakura wants to see more - little yaoi fangirl she is._

_Lol- here we go then, this is a Stalker!Insane!Harry/Orochimaru for Phantom Feline. And yes~ Harry's crazy little mutterings do have a meaning so brownies to whosoever figures them out~_

_Also, I was offered internet babies. Yes. Yes you may have my internet babies so long as the ugliest of our little imaginary bastard children in named Megatron. That is my only stipulation. No, I'm not really a big Transformers fan, I just want there to be a very unfortunate child **somewhere** named Megatron. This is all._


	8. Ouran High School Host Club 4

**Dear Moine the Kneazle,**

**Consider youself served.**

**Yeah I don't know, I just wanted to say that one day so I did.**

**~ ((Ganguro girls are the devil. Don't believe me? First watch the movie Devil, then watch like Durarara!. See that blond ganguro girl who's picking on Aniri? Remember the devil? SAME EYES, SAME EYES. And so, ganguro girls = the devil. Now you know. And knowing is half the battle. G.I. JOE!))**

* * *

On one hand, there was Dark Kasanoda. This was the side that knew exactly what his family business entailed, where 'Uncle Yoshi' disappeared to when he was six and his father discovered a snitch in the midst, and how to make an effective shank out of a box of toothpicks and a bottle of hair gel.

Grey Kasanoda (there would never be a Light Kasanoda as well, come on – he was heir to a _gang_) still knew how to make that shank out of toothpicks, but he also got all flustered when talking to girls because -well- the closest thing they had to a girl back home was Tetsuya and let's face it no matter how pretty the blond was THAT WAS NOT A GIRL. Grey Kasanoda also knew he'd never get a tattoo because holy_ Jesus fuck needles, _he liked some cutesy things (like Huni-sempai and Haruhi), he would never ever kill anyone purposefully, and he could make a deadly shank out of a lavender scented candle and a plastic monkey the size of a quarter.

Either way he was a regular McGyver when it came to making shanks.

But Grey Kasanoda wanted Dark Kasanoda dead. Because Grey Kasanoda planned on dying old, and happy, and married (to some cute, sweet girl who made the best onigiri ever because it was his favorite), and with a soul damn it. Dark Kasanoda would either sell his soul to the devil by age twenty-five or be dead in a ditch with some stripper's underwear in his mouth and no one to mourn for him.

So he went to visit Haruhi at the Host Club about once a month baring vegetables he had grown in gardening club, because Haruhi killed Dark Kasanoda with her sweetness and nothing was yummier than home grown tomatoes.

About an hour of so before close on March 14th, Kasanoda entered the third music room to find the place swarming in tiny white heart. Like every-fucking-where. Dark Kasanoda had half a mind to laugh and remind these idiots that Valentine's day was last month, fucking retards, when Grey Kasanoda lightly reminded his other half of White Day. Oh- oh yeah.

Kasanoda didn't even bother arranging his session with Kyouya as by this point the glasses wearing teen already had the routine down pact and likely already had a cup of his favorite tea (Almond with a spoonful of honey – yummy) waiting and just that right level of warm at Haruhi's table.

The girl masquerading as a boy looked up from her rather large crowd today just in time to see his approach and smiled oh so sweetly. Grey Kasanoda smiled back as Dark Kasanoda screamed in pain and called for a medic damn it – a medic! I NEED A FUCKING DOCTOR OVER HERE!

Every pained moan, groan, and scream for his dark side made the extremely exorbitant price to see Haruhi more and more worth it.

"Casanova-kun! (Kasanoda didn't even bother trying to correct her anymore. He was entirely convinced she said the wrong name on purpose as a sort of weird joke.) Is it time for your visit already? I didn't even realize it had gotten to be that time of the month already!" Haruhi said with such an easy, sweet smile that it just twisted his gut even more that she had forgotten about him so easily.

Didn't it just burn too? No White Day gift for him this year. He ignored Dark Kasanoda, who was calling him all sorts of nasty names for being such a fucking girl and giving someone chocolates on Valentine's day then being disappointed when his gift wasn't reciprocated on White Day. That was a fucking girl's role fagot!

Haruhi helped him into his seat, effectively taking an wooden baseball bat (Always wooden. Aluminum was harder and less likely to break, but wooden bats had splinters and nothing said go die in a ditch you worthless piece of trash like splinters in your massive head wound.) to Dark Kasanoda. Grey Kasanoda took the moment of silence to offer Haruhi today's gift of tomatoes (which she accepted amongst girlish tittering). He steadfastly ignored the 'You poor sucker' looks and sipped at his tea.

The small girl went to introduce him to today's circle of girls, not that either Kasanoda gave a flying fuck, so he decided to at least feign attention by looking at the girls.

Fish lips, Ganguro bitch, the girl who smelled like toast, the chick with the too close together eyes, Miss Never Speaks In Anything Above A Whisper, and – and who was that?

Sitting at the end of the circle, and by extension closest to Haruhi besides himself, was what he was about 70 percent sure was a girl. It would have been lower as there was just _something_ so androgynous about the girl, except for the fact that only girls (and him) ever came to the host club.

She was very pretty, in her own sort of way. Her skin was pale, pale, pale like she hadn't been in the sunlight in years and looked really soft even if it did seem like it was pulled just a little too tight over the strong bones of her face. Her cheekbones and chin line were both quite strong and her nose was a little too small for her face, but it all sort of pulled together in a weirdly beautiful way that while would never be considered classical was still _gorgeous_. Mid length black hair was pulled back into a dorky looking ponytail at the base of her neck and her green eyes (which really were just the prettiest color) were half hidden by the thick frames of her coke bottle glasses. Still-

Still he listened when Haruhi introduced her.

"...and this is my pen pal Harry, he's visiting from Britain so I invited him to look around the school and hang out here at the host club."

He. _He_. **HE!**

Well fuck.

His luck never had been that great, this he supposed was just another example as such because god damn that soft little smile and the strong accent as he said hello and those pretty eyes that looked at him just so.

Dark Kasanoda screamed so loudly that his ears were ringing, but he still managed to offer the boy – Harry, Grey Kasanoda supplied – a sort of awkward grin. First Haruhi, who while cute was far too much like a boy for Dark Kasanoda, and now an actual motherfucking boy. After a sweet smile and a little hello he had a crush on a boy.

A fucking boy. Even Grey Kasanoda had to admit that was kinda bad, although he was willing to overlook it if only to hear Dark Kasanoda's screams as he died so painfully because everyone knew a human blizzard, a fucking king pin, the _leader of a deadly and powerful gang_ couldn't be gay god damn it.

'He probably can't even make onigiri – fucking foreigner!' Dark Kasanoda tried as a last ditch sort of tactic.

But then Harry smiled at him again and asked what sort of tea he was drinking and Kasanoda as a whole was convinced that Harry could probably learn how to make onigiri and he'd probably be fucking great at it.

* * *

**A.N: **_Working my way through my challenges~ la de da. I'm not doing them in any sorta order, just as the inspiration hits me. Although some of you may need to wait longer than others while I do some research... Anywho, I think this would be cute if it were continued although I don't know if I ever shall, huh. _

_I may post extra chapters again here soon cuse I've got a con next weekend during which I probably won't be able to post. Soooo yeah. _

_Anyone else geeking out becuase of the new Pokemon game that comes out state side this Sunday?_

_EDIT: Edited for brownies, both Sabaku no sabe and Marmee noir guessed at the meaning of Harry's drunken... I mean crazy ramblings and both were right! Brownies for you! Good brownies too, with nuts and frudge and little marshmellows._


	9. Hetalia 1

**To the lovely The-Death-Queen,**

**Your challenge has been filled. Rejoice for there will be pancakes and tomatoe juice in celebration.**

**~ ((In soviet Russia, gingers _have_ souls!))**

* * *

"This is a shit-ton of weapons for a bloody UN meeting," Ron finally announced, kicking the box between them holding all the confiscated weapons. _Something_ inside made a loud clicking noise and they both took a large sidestep away from the unassuming cardboard box.

Harry and Ron were running security, a sure sign that somewhere along the last week or so they had pissed someone higher up on the food chain off. Door security. At a UN meeting.

Effectively, they were acting as door greeters. 'Hello~ yes, please place anything on your person that's sharper or pointier than a pound note in the box. Yes, yes that will make 'negotiations' harder but think of it this way, there's nothing like strangling a man with own bare hands! Enough the meeting!'

Harry made a strange sort of noise, halfway between a sign and a 'dear lord get me out of here' groan (which had developed and patented their first hour of duty at the doors) and ruffled his chin length hair.

"I don't even recognize any of these representatives, do you Harry?"

Harry froze for a moment before shooting Ron an incredulous look. "You're asking me?"

The red head shuffled, circling his shoulders around uncomfortably in the standard dark suit they'd both been forced into. The tie was long gone and Harry was entirely sure that Ron's collar had never actually been properly buttoned. "Well yeah, politicians all wanna know you and stuff cuse of ("-we both know why Ron." "Right, sorry.") but yeah, they all wanna get buddy buddy with you – I figured maybe you knew some of them?"

"Just because they want to know me doesn't mean I care to know them."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Ron shuffled on his feet again and Harry sighed, slipping his fingers up to rub his eyes under the thick lenses of his glasses.

"I wish Moine was here, she could tell us who the bloody hell these wankers are."

The brunette grunted slightly in agreement and they both fell more or less silent. Then both their wands vibrated silently in the holsters strapped to their forearms, warning them that yet another of the representatives was trying to sneak in a weapon.

The two men didn't even have to _look_ to see the towering pale man wearing a tan long coat with a lead pipe slung over his shoulders casually.

"Your turn," Ron immediately supplied, stepping back slightly.

Harry felt a mild sweep of panic, turning slightly to look at his suddenly paler friend. "What? No way, you're bigger and stronger. Besides, I did the last guy – the crazy blond one with the guns!"

They both glanced at the separate and very large box hidden slightly by a column behind them, filled entirely with the man's guns alone.

"You're faster, if he swung that thing you could actually dodge it." Ron shot back, disregarding the 'turn' comment.

"He's twice my size, at least!"

"Wanna rock paper scissors for it?"

The brunette stilled, turning to fully face his long time best friend. "I regret teaching you that game."

Ron held his hands, one clenched in a lazy sort of fist and the other hovering open beneath it, up in offer.

Harry mimicked his stance. "Loser does it?'

"Like the winner would want to- Ready?"

"Rock – paper - scissors – Go!"

Harry died a little inside when he saw the paper Ron bore to his rock. He glanced over his shoulder at the man, his extreme height and white blond hair acting as an easy location beacon. "If I die tell baby Rose I love her, she's the only woman who hasn't ripped my heart out and eaten it with fava beans."

Ron looked far more amused then Harry felt he should. "Hermoine didn't-"

"Lies! Every time she used to check my homework for me it was like a buffet for her." Harry answered, steeling himself.

Ron pushed the space between his shoulder blades and Harry shot him a glare before finally darting forward. He reached the man's side quickly and the blond immediately acknowledged his presence, stopping and pivoting a tad to better face Harry. Who only came up to the middle of the blond's chest. Well didn't that just make this a fucking whole lot harder to do with a straight face.

"да? What is it you need?"

Ah ha- Russian. Harry could deal with Russian. His trainer in Auror boot camp had been Russian which had allowed Harry to pick up a few very important tips as to how to deal with Russians during the two year period. He'd also picked up a whole plethora of interesting 'interrogation' methods, but that was better saved for another day.

"Ah-" Harry paused, mentally kicking himself for squeaking like that before starting over. "I'm sorry sir but conference rules state that absolutely no weapons be allowed into the negotiations."

The man's vibrant purple eyes simply stared down at him, an apparently ever present smile tugging at the corners of the man's lips.

"I have to take your pipe." The brunette supplied.

"нет."

Harry blinked. "Um – _yes._ I'm sorry but I have to confiscate it. You can have it back at the end of the day -"

"нет, Я думаю нет."

Shifting uncomfortably and stepping back slightly – if only to put just the tiny bit more space between them – the smaller man looked the blond straight in his purple eyes for a moment before shifting his attention to the man's collarbone. "See, you're not understanding me. You don't really have a choice."

"And what will you do to take it from me?" The sneer was easily heard on the man's words although the soft smile never once actually left.

"I'm not above kicking you in the shins if I must," Harry supplied, crossing his arms.

The taller man laughed, a low and cold sound, and dropped his arm heavily around Harry's slender shoulders. "Какой довольно маленький вспыльчивый человек Вы!"

Harry scowled.

The man apparently suddenly noticed that Harry had been responding to his statements in Russian because his smile turned larger as he studied the brunette man under his arm. "Ah you speak Russian?"

"Достаточно, чтобы знать, что Вы обычно не называете мужчин этим." Harry answered, mentally crossing his fingers that he didn't fuck up the pronunciations.

Seemingly he did not because the huge man draped over him began to laugh again, louder and drawing more than one curious eye. The other representatives gave them both wide berth as the blond man pulled Harry tighter to his side. "I like you." He supplied simply and Harry rather got the impression this wasn't a _good_ thing.

"I will give you my pipe but you must not allow anyone else to touch it, да? I want you and only you to handle it and take good care of it. You must be very good to my _pipe._"

Oh that wasn't riddled with double meanings and phallic symbolism _at all_. Still, Harry nodded.

The Russian man smiled down at him, giving Harry the feeling of being a steak on a starving man's plate."Oh but wait – one last thing, one last thing. England! ENGLAND!" Up ahead a short blond man wearing a formal dark brown tweed suit stilled and turned very, very slowly to face them. He looked horrified. "I will be taking this one as my own, okay?" The man next to him called, giving a little giggle at the end of his more-of-a-statement question and slightly tightening his grip around Harry's shoulders.

He was missing something, Harry just knew it.

The blond quivered so slightly that Harry wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking for it. "A-actually Russia-"

"GOOD!" Russia boomed in interruption, entirely dismissing the other blond to turn his full attention back to Harry. "Now run along дорогой вспыльчивый человек, I will take you after meeting."

Harry did just that, scampering with all his speed back to an eager Ron's side.

"Did you get it mate?"

Harry skipped a beat, looking down at the pipe which was peppered with suspicious copper stains. "I-I guess, yeah."

Ron crowed and continued enthusiastically talking about their triumph over 'stuffy UN codgers' (never mind it was Harry who had risked life and limb to retrieve the weapon), but Harry found himself only half listening.

Hadn't the man meant to say he would take _his pipe _after the meeting or-?

* * *

**A.N:**_I love Russia. This is all. _

_This goes to The-Death-Queen who requested a Harry Potter/ Hetalia crossover. _

_Oh! Thank you to Nightmaric for the spelling corrections! I accidentally mispelled both Shizuo and Anri's names. Ahh I feel pathetic. Durarara! is one of my favourites and I managed to mispell both their names. Emoemoemoemocookiemonsteremo_

_Longest chapter yet! Interweb cookies for all!_

_EDIT: Edited becuase I'm a dingbat who forgot to put in translations. Here you go~_

_да - yes__  
нет - no  
Какой довольно маленький вспыльчивый человек Вы! - What a pretty little spitfire you are!  
Я думаю нет. - I think not.  
Достаточно, чтобы знать, что Вы обычно не называете мужчин этим. - Enough to know you don't usually call men that.  
дорогой вспыльчивый человек - dear spitfire_


	10. Blazblue 1

"_Nya!_ Hey there shorty! Will you but Tao food?"

Harry starred, not quite believing his eyes. The girl... cat girl thing watched intently while her puffy black and white tail flipped about aimlessly. He glowing red eyes stared back at him from under her dark hood, which hide all of her features but for glowing eyes and a Cheshire grin.

She blinked twice and very slowly before leaning very far forward of the toes of her strangely shaped shoes, likely flashing the passing crowd behind her because well fuck her tan dress was _short_. Her tail, which he'd been ignoring, reached around the oversized 'paws' of her dress which she had drawn up to her chest and poked his cheek twice.

Huh- it was a lot softer than he'd expected.

"You're pretty like a girl, _nya_, but-" She suddenly darted forward with a meowing screech, groping his chest so vigorously that Harry was knocked back a foot or so. "You're flatter than cutting board!" She wailed, the features of her face he could see fixed in an exaggerated expression if sadness. He paws scrabbled against his chest, trying to find at least a tiny amount of purchase on which to hold. Harry tried to slap her paws away but this only encouraged them in their search for feminine breasts. The cat leaned further into her groping _too far_ and together they toppled to the ground. She didn't even really seem to notice. "Are you even a girl, _nya?_"

"No."

The cat girl froze for half a second before meowing loudly and leaning so far forward that Harry found himself nose to... growing red eyes with the cat _and why the hell did no one seem to care that he was being molested by a giant cat in the middle of a busy street?_

"You're awfully pretty for a boy shorty~" She said doubtfully in the closest thing to an inside voice Harry figured she had, just a half a hair short of yelling.

He blinked large green eyes slowly, mind lagging a tad due to the sheer weirdness of the situation, before the boy sputtered and clambered to his feet thus knocking the cat girl suddenly from his lap. Harry narrowed his eyes down at the cat, who apparently had decided to remain in the haphazard pile she had landed on the ground in, grinning as she was up at him with a disturbingly large, toothy smile.

"Who _are_ you?" Harry demanded with what little dignity he could scrape together while brushing her huge, dusty paw prints out of his deep blue robes.

"Tao is Tao, Shorty. Who are you, _nya?_"

"Harry Potter, I was sent here by the Ministry to-"

She jumped ecclesiastically to her feet suddenly, causing Harry to jump a bit, and bounced on the toes of her shoes. "Okay Hairy Shorty, will you buy Tao lunch now, _nya?_"

Harry was at a lose for words. This was not going as planned _at all_.

Behind them Harry held yells as a man came darting from the Chinese restaurant nearby.

"It's Ragna the Bloodedge! And he just tried to molest that poor little boy!"

Wasn't that the moniker of the man he was supposed to arrest?

"I did not! I don't like little boys! I like little girls- wait. DAMN IT THAT'S NOT RIGHT!"

Tao bounced faster and began waving frantically. "Rawgna! Rawgna! Hey good guy! Over here ~ over here~" She turned to Harry and in a voice no lower than the yell she had just being calling out to his _target_ in addressed him. "Rawgna is a good guy, _nya!_ Tao and Rawgna grew up together!"

_Oh,_ of course.

* * *

**A.N:** _Ahhhhh Blazblue, I love you. Also, Ragna's line '...I don't like little boys...' that is legit canon. Yes. Not too surprising that something like that would be in there, considering that Ragna's little brother Jin is obsessivly in love with him. Like - enough to try to kill their sister because Ragna was paying more attention to her._

_Busy busy weekend ahead, my Miku and I are gonna pull a no sleep weekend to work on our Vocaloid cosplays for next weekend, which I am so excited about! I live for cons - they and onigiri are my life blood. _

_Anywho - I will not be filling any challenges for the next few days - research is being done brotatoe chips. Presently, I'm watching Sherlock which is bloody brilliant I think. Next on the docket is Eyeshield 21 and One Piece... probably a refresher on Bleach too._

_Pokemon comes out Sunday! :3 I'm considering picking up my copy in my White cosplay, probably drag along my N and Black - just to fuck with people. Hmm maybe I'll post a pokemon crossover in celebration?_


	11. Stargate 1

"Veronica Lake." Sam repeated, a look of vague amusement gracing her face.

"Hottest woman ever." The sandy haired Jack agreed with a steady nod while spooning some of the questionable cafeteria food absently.

Before anyone could respond, not that any of his table mates knew quite what to say, a loud blaring alarm interrupted the relative silence of the stargate facility. No words were spared all of the SG1 team and various other uniformed workers were rushing as quickly as was healthily possible to the gate room.

They arrived in the large concrete room to find it entirely filled with soldiers, all armed and pointing their guns at a handsome if somewhat thin man clad in loose tattered blue robes. Despite the state of his robes the man was clean shaven and his long wavy hair, black but with shoots of silver, was clean and silky looking. There was a large, slightly red bump on his right temple and for one reason or another the man's chest was bleeding slightly and could be seen through the open neckline of his robes.

"Hands up!" some nameless solider called.

Without question, the lifted his hands easily.

"Name?" the same soldier demanded.

"Sirius," the dark haired man answered immediately. "Sirius Black. Uh... please don't shoot me." Sirius paused to clear his throat nervously. "I like being alive and without unnecessary holes."

* * *

**A.N: **_Holy smokes shortest one yet. . I love this one though - it's my little bastard child._

_Long long long day today - but my Luka cosplay is offically done and oh lord are my boobs out there. o.o _

_Pokemon crossover tomorrow!_


	12. Pokemon 1

The statue was old and weathered, with chips missing here and there. Yet, it was still elegant and beautiful. The creature was a noble looking and fox like sort of _thing_ with nine tails poised around its slender form.

Harry stared at it in wonder and no small amount of bemusement, running his fingertips over the smooth curve of it's muzzle. What was this creature? What was a statue of it doing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest?

The dark haired teen frowned thoughtfully, shuffling to look around at the back of the statue. He miscalculated his step however and slipped backwards. He Blindly reached out for something to catch himself on and he ever so briefly felt the smooth wood of one of the tails. As soon as he touched the wood, however, he heard the sound of something of a canine nature howling and he knew no more.

****

Words could not describe Harry's thoughts at the current moment. They simply couldn't.

His mind was jumbled, spinning and lurching in countless directions even as his body, numb and most likely moving entirely under the control of his subconscious mind (which also apparently liked the smell of berries as he _knew – could fucking smell _every single one for at least a half mile radius).

Harry was shaky on his own legs (which there were more of then he recalled), his neck was longer and thicker than he remembered too, and he couldn't begin to imagine what he should do with his tails.

Still, the terrified and shaken teen managed.

Teetering on four slender but surprisingly strong tan legs, Harry proceeded in a random direction slowly and carefully as he took in the nondescript forest he woke in. Consciously making an effort to keep his long (and also tan furred) snout pressed to the soft grass and occasional tree root of the sparsely vegetated forest.

The teen wasn't a hundred percent on how he had arrived to wherever it was that he was now, all he really remembered was finding a strange statue of a nine-tailed fox thing.

A singular voiced rose from the calamity of his own mind, informing him in a snide sort of way that was entirely too similar to Snape that from what he could tell his current form was strikingly similar to the creature of that statue.

Harry ignored it as best he could, although his tails did sink slightly as he continued to follow the distinctive mix of sweat and something intangible that could only be identified as human.

* * *

**A.N: **_Ahhh yet another depressingly short one. It seems that when I'm writing a challenge, I'm more inspired to add some girth then when I'm writing my own ideas. Le sigh~_

_Anywho this is inspired by the legend that any who pull a Ninetails' tail is will be cursed and the first Pokemon Dungeon game's idea that this curse could be being turned into a pokemon. Yes- Harry is a Ninetails. :3 Yes, I love turning him into creatures (and ocassionally stuffed children's toys) he's not meant to be__._

_Speaking of Pokemon - been playing the new game. It's amazing, but dear lord is the third city (Castiel? Something like that.) really really overwhelming at first. And... I GOT FLASHED! Holy smokes. Yep. Went into a back alley of the big city looking for some dancer dude and got flashed by a guy in a trench coat._


	13. Ouran High School Host Club 5

**Dear Waffleslayer,**

**I choose you! -r challenge. **

**~((I'm a shaaarrrrkkkk, I'm a shaaarrrrkkkkkkk, Suck my ddddiiiiiicccckkkk, I'm a shaaaarrrrrrrkkkkk))**

* * *

After a solid ten years without a single date, Haruhi was entirely convinced that her father would die a widower (widow? 50% widower, 50% widow). The redheaded man simply couldn't seem to _move on_. Every time Haruhi would not so subtly point out a potential woman, he snubbed her immediately with comments like 'Oh please, I can see those split ends from here. _Hello! Conditioner!_' and 'As if I'd ever date a woman who willingly wore paisley!'. Men who were pointed out offhandedly (read: in the same glaringly obvious, bull in a china shop, elephant in the room sort of way she said everything) always received the same answer, regardless of their appearance. 'Honey, a queen like me needs a beautiful King and that is not a King.'

The pun was not lost on her and it often made Haruhi wonder just what a _queen_ like her father Ranka would consider a King.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know but then again when it came to her father, Haruhi wasn't sure she actually had much of a choice.

Her suspicion was proven correct during a trip to the local department store on a particularly balmy summer afternoon. This trip was different than most others in that Ranka had decided on a 'whim' to tag along. Usually the redhead man (woman every Friday through Sunday from 6 pm to 2 am and whenever the urge struck him to wear a skirt) left any and all so called 'un-fun' shopping to her as the only sort of shopping Ranka excelled at was stalking down the cutest stilettos ever in men's size 12.

Not long after they had managed to drag themselves away from the book store (one of the few places both father and daughter loved), Ranka gasped and made a very disturbing sort of cooing noise, gripping Haruhi's forearm way too tight.

"Oh my~ Haruhi will you look at that delicious piece of man meat?" The red head cooed, half hiding behind a life-sizedd cut out of some anime character (she vaguely recognized it as Sebastian from Kuroshitsuji) and staring _intently_ at the so called man meat. For half a second Haruhi wanted to roll her eyes and keeping moving, then it registered in her mind just what her father said.

Speaking of, the man was fanning himself melodramatically, leaning far forward to better see the man. Haruhi ducked behind Sebastian as well and tried to follow her father's line of sight. This could be _the one_ to break her father's dry spell.

"Oh momma- that daddy is a _King_ among men. Me~_ow._"

Momma? Daddy? King? What the hell?

"Where? I don't see anyone-"

Ranka scoffed and gave his daughter a 'You hopeless thing you-' look, lifting a finely manicured red finger to point through the crowd at a man. Said man turned so his face was pointed in their direction as if on cue and even Haruhi had to admit the man was _something_ else.

He was of average height she supposed, about the same size as her father and the twins but a little more broad in the shoulders and a little more slender in the waist. Ear length black hair curled and waved and generally made a beautiful mess of itself, nicely accenting his pale skin and big lash surrounded _green_ eyes. Sitting comfortably on his shoulders was a little boy, probably no older than about 6, who was all things cute and adorable.

The kid had gold hair, just as wild as what she assumed was his father's hair and just as subtly charming and sweet, and big green eyes the same striking shade as his father's beautiful eyes. Obviously, King Daddy had let the boy dress himself because he was a hodge podge of wild, vibrant color. The boy's knit hat, rolled a few times in the front so his sweet face could still be seen, was a day glow yellow, his shorts were red with patches sewn on featuring anime characters she both knew and didn't, his band shirt (featuring in big purple English the name 'Luna Lovegood and the Nargals') was turquoise, one sock was pink with little puppies and the other was mostly green and made to look like a frog.

Next to the boy on his shoulders, King Daddy looked positively undressed in his dark, worn jeans and royal blue tee shirt that seemed as if it was painted onto that tightly muscled chest.

Haruhi blinked. Even with her constant exposure to pretty boys at Ouran, she had to admit King Daddy and his little prince were both exceptionally pretty.

Next to her, Ranka licked his lips and Haruhi beat down the desire to shudder. She may have wanted her father to date again but that didn't mean she wanted to see him like this – obviously very very aroused and on the _hunt_. She had a brief mental image of the red head dressed as a lion.

Ahead, King Daddy and Prince laughed as the little boy pulled lightly on his father's curls as if steering the man through them.

"Full speed ahead! You promised I could get the new volume of Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr~" The boy drew out the title, leaning his stomach against the back of his father's head and steering again.

King Daddy followed the instructions given through his hair, bringing both hands up as if holding handle bars and twisting them. "Vroom vroom."

The Prince broke down in hysterics for reasons both Fujioka wasn't exactly clear on, but it was adorable nonetheless.

"You know," King Daddy started, his voice sweet and a tad raspy like raw vanilla. "your Aunty Hermoine seems to think I'm being irresponsible by letting you read (here he cleared his throat slightly and continued in an exaggerated but not all that off woman's voice) _'comics about gangs!'."_

"Aunty Hermoine gave me a book about ex-exsssoooo"

"Existential."

"Yeah that! Ex-so-stint-ial pseudo-science for my birthday."

Regardless of his slightly hampered progress, the message was clear and Harry laughed lightly while taking the small boy down from his shoulders and setting him on the floor. "Alright, alright. Go on Teddy-bear, go get your book and I'll catch up."

Teddy-bear hopped, pulling his knit cap farther down and ran ahead while giggling wildly. He paused at their not so great hiding place and punched the cut out Sebastian in his cardboard stomach. "You're a jerk." he informed the cut out, before noticing them behind the cut out. "What're you doing?" The boy asked and now that he was closer they could both hear the heavy British accent on his words. Somehow, it just made the boy that much cuter.

Ranka laughed, flapping his wrist as he stepped out from behind the cardboard cut out. "What am I doing? I'm spying me a fabulous king," Here Ranka bent down to be at eye level with Teddy, smiling gently. He always did love having kids around and Haruhi felt a brief stab of regret for her own independent nature. "The question is why did you punch a cut out?"

Teddy stared him straight in the eye, hands on his hips. He reach up with one pudgy fingered hand to run fingertips gently over Ranka's long, straight and currently loose hair. "You have pretty hair," he commented, before stiffening his posture and returning his hand to his hips. "And Sebastian is a jerk and a rapist."

Behind the small boy came the awkward laughter of his father who had come jogging up. He laid a hand on Teddy's shoulder, gripping a bit tightly. "Teddy-bear what have I told you about using words like that when talking to strangers?" Oh, not surprisingly the father had the same heavy accent as his son.

Teddy squawked, tilting his head back to look at his father. Beside her Haruhi felt her own father begin to twitch and she wanted to roll her eyes. Grown up love – honestly. "But daddy- he is a rapist."

Daddy laughed and hefted the boy up into his arms. "But Teddy- most people get uncomfortable when a cute little thing like you talks about rapists."

"Most people get uncomfortable when they find out you-"

King Daddy's eyes widened and he slapped a hand over Teddy's mouth, pretty eyes darting nervously to them. "Teddy-bear this is hardly the place-"

"Buttsecks!" The little blond boy yelled through his father's pale hand. The man immediately dropped his face to hide it in Teddy's cap.

Haruhi smiled softly in reassurance when the man looked up through his lashes at them and through her peripheral vision she could she her father smiling as well. She was just going to ignore the predatory, almost lusty look of her father's smile and make nice with Teddy. He really was just to most adorable little boy and-

Ranka stepped forward, offering his hand to shake with a purposefully alluring and flirty smile. "Hey there honey, I'm Ranka~"

The man blinked twice before setting down Teddy before taking the offered hand with an equally flirty and entirely too dashing grin. "Harry."

Haruhi gestured for Teddy to follow her, leading the little boy back into the book shop she had only just left as their fathers both flirted shamelessly. She held the little boy's hand hand as the two of them talked easily, absently happy they had so much in common. After all, if her father had any say in the issue (and Haruhi had no doubt that not only did her father have a say in it, he _controlled_ it) they would be siblings by the end of the year.

* * *

**A.N:**_ Woot, short chapters of the past few days are redeemed with the new longest chapter yet. This is a Harry/Ranka story for waffleslayer. _

_Anywho- the vroom vroom is Durarara! (also known as Drrr) joke, refrencing a scene where Izaya, who I've established looks alot like my usual view of Harry, is walking next to Celty while she's riding her very big black motorcycle and he does just what Harry did here. _

_Like the Queen joke? Oh yes, I'm punny._


	14. Sherlock 1

**Dear Fallen One Winged Tenshin and Raylen Ray,**

**Snap~ here it is. Although I may still doing that Hellsing fic for you too ray. Hmmmm**

**~((I don't think I like this script. I have problems with the dialoge. There should be more explosions. And dead children.))**

* * *

The room was entirely silent but for the normal human noises as Sherlock, still in his scarf and jacket and not at all inclined to shed them at anyone foreseeable time, fluttered about perhaps a tad too close to the body but really- who here was actually going to stop _him_ from doing as he pleased?

"Well?" Lestrade prompted, his arms crossed loosely as he shuffled.

Sherlock looked up at him for a moment, absently noting the sudden absence of a certain ring from the detective's hand. He desperately wanted to bait the man, to see how the other would respond. Would he anger and tell him it was none of his business? That seemed the most likely option and the dark haired man and he was a tad disappointed in the predictability of the detective. If Lestrade were more like John he'd say something along the lines of 'Not exactly new, I'm surprised you haven't said anything before.'. That was an unusual response for men their age and the main reason why Sherlock liked keeping the doctor about. What fun was it if he could always predict exactly how a conversation would progress?

Still, it may be fun to bait the man just to rile him up. '_No- no that was a bad idea Sherlock. You mustn't play with the people around you constantly-' _He used the corpse's leg to push himself back into a proper stand.

"Oi-" Of course Anderson would protest to his 'contamination'. He should have known but honestly the blithering idiot occupied so little a section of his attention that he wasn't surprised that the other man and his resulting behaviour hadn't come to mind earlier.

Still- he shifted his attention slightly, casting Donovan a glance from the corner of his eyes. She was wearing a skirt again as she was often prone to doing, a dark green today and perhaps a tad wrinkled about the thighs – not the sort of place skirts usually wrinkled from sitting or walking which led him the believe it was so sort of other cause. The wrinkling wasn't too bad and he had likely been on of the first to notice it, suggesting it had been folded and later had the wrinkles worked out. An iron would have worked out those – so that was out of the question and her legs were just a tad... ah.

"Donovan, you spent the night again?"

She immediately stiffened, casting him a vicious glare. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course, I wouldn't expect an individual of your intellect too. It's just your skirt is wrinkled. It probably ended up like that after laying about on the floor. It's not too bad now so you probably took a hot shower and steamed it out, but steam never really gets all the wrinkles does it? And you probably cut your shower short when you nicked yourself shaving, men's razors tend to be sharper so it's easier to cut yourself."

The woman's glared turned darker although she said nothing.

Ah –_ fun._

"Holmes," Lestrade warned, shifting himself again and unfolding his arms. No tie today? Ah- he must have been kicked out last night then as Lestrade didn't know how to tie a tie himself. He could have just been too annoyed with the garment to wear one today or taken it off earlier, but Sherlock doubted it. "What've you got?"

Oh and that was the million pound question now wasn't it. The answer? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. _But_ he couldn't say such a thing with Anderson of all people in the room (couldn't let the man start to think he was _better_ than Holmes, that sort of behaviour would just be sad), so he did what he always fell back on when he had nothing. The petty, useless facts.

"He's a fighter, a soldier – these wounds," here Sherlock turned back to the dead body, longeing easily in a recliner and indicated bandaged wounds on the man's forearms and one on his left cheek. "Are recent, suggesting he's only recently left the battlefield but he's no sort of tan from being out and about outdoors which is a contradiction-" He trailed off at the end, considering his dead body.

The man was young, probably no older than twenty five and quite broad all over. There were no signs of well anything on the body that could have killed him. With the exception of the wounds (strange things they were too, a third degree burn on his cheek and very very large _claw_ marks on his arms – defensive wounds but at least two weeks old so not at all involved with his death) the man had a perfect bill of health – as cleared by Dr. Watson. No strangulation, no gun shots, no poisoning, no anything. The man was simply dead.

So perhaps not exactly a _clean_ bill of health but nonetheless.

"He could have simply gotten those wounds in his day to day life-" Anderson corrected aloud and oh lord he could feel his brain cells screaming in agony.

"What sort of man has defensive claw marks from his day to day life?"

"Zoo keeper-" the frankly greasy looking man responded promptly and my didn't he just look smug.

Time to take him down a couple notches.

"Only his landlord – who's living room he would have to pass through in order to leave the home – says he left perhaps once or twice and always returned within half an hour, hardly proper hours for a zoo keeper, So unless you're suggesting the victim kept a lion in here-" Holmes paused for a moment to gesture broadly at around the small attic studio apartment. No beasts of prey appeared. " then your theory is flaws, your suggestion moot, and I'll be asking you to kindly shut your trap now, you're giving me a headache with your drivel."

Sherlock imagined that – if Anderson were a bigger man perhaps- this would be the moment where he would be punched.

"As I was saying~" The dark haired man smirked oh so lightly and turned his attention back to the dead man. "He's new to the area, not very adventurous and just recently emerged from a bad conflict suggesting he had some enemies who wish to harm him that he was – rather unsuccessfully I might add- hiding from. Now! Who knows how to kill a man without leaving a mark or trace anywhere on the body?"

"Well, you certainly won't be finding out."

Sherlock snapped around to look at the man who had just entered despite the attempts by the door watches to keep him out. He was short and rather slender, very young as well likely about twenty one tops which in combination suggested an abusive childhood. This theory was proven he felt by numerous light (meaning old, so a long running abusive which had been ended approximately three to four years ago) scars littering the man's neck and the backs of his hands (I must not tell lies? Interesting.) the face was mostly unmarked with the exception of a lightning shaped scar half hidden by long bangs, suggesting that whomsoever abused him had been hesitant to mark his face. A slender, oval shape with large vibrant green eyes, strong bone structure, and too small pink lips. Pretty. Very pretty. Perhaps his appearence hearkened back to a deceased loved one? Most likely a female, so maybe his mother? His hair was a dark black and wild, suggesting that he wasn't one to bother much with his appearance. The frankly terrible glasses, thick black framed coke bottle things, reinforced this idea but the man's uniform (a strange cobalt blue deal composed of a tailcoat/vest combination with matching short cape attached at the shoulders with large pins fashioned in the shape of a sort of creature's clawed paw, riding pants, and knee high boots in a beautifully shined black) was perfectly tailored and set in exactly the proper way. So this man did not care for his appearance, but was proud of his achievements or profession. Curiouser and curiouser.

"I beg your pardon?" John was first to speak, but he always did deal well with strange occurrences.

The newcomer smiled in a disarming sort of way and shifted the grip hie had on his hat (also a royal blue) held under his right arm. "The case is hereby out of your jurisdiction and shall be henceforth handled by the Unspeakable squad of her majesty's royal court."

"Unspeakable? What the bloody fuck does an 'Unspeakable' do?" Ah- Anderson, Sherlock would always be able to depend on him of the stupid questions quota.

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, not much but enough for Holmes to gather that he did not approve of such crass behaviour. So perhaps strict manners were part of what had been beaten into him during childhood. "Are you new to the language? I was under the impression everyone who spoke the language knew what unspeakable meant-" The man answered with a bright tone, making his sarcastic words all the more cutting in Sherlock's book. "It means you can't speak about it."

"So-"

The man huffed lightly and cut Anderson off efficiently. "So it means what I do is none of your business. You are all relieved of this particular case, please evacuate the crime scene and report all findings on this and the four previous bodies to our department for six sharp."

"Five total!" Sherlock suddenly burst, spinning on heel to face Lestrade. "I knew you wouldn't have brought me in unless it was at least three, but you have been keeping secrets sir! And I do so love a serial killer~"

Lestrade did not answer but to gap slightly and Sherlock quickly grew bored. He turned back to the man, cocking his head slightly.

"Sherlock Holmes," he identified, not offering a hand.

The man smiled slightly and in the direct path of the expression Sherlock had to admit it was a very pretty expression on a very pretty face. "Hadrian Potter."

"Ah~ we must commiserate, we of the unusual names!"

Hadrian shrugged lightly although his smile grew in contradiction. "I've heard stranger."

Sherlock considered him for a moment before nodding, throwing out a subtly hidden challenge. "Mycroft."

"Severus."

"Benedict."

"Nymphadora."

"Cumberbatch."

"Draconius. Check."

"Ginevra. Check."

"Oh you too? My honorary sister's name is Ginevra. Very well, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Checkmate."

Sherlock could feel himself grinning but didn't bother stopping it, what an interesting challenge this Hadrian was – even more intriguing than his experiment microwaving human eyes with approximately four ounces sodium glycolate stuffed inside and that was one of his most interesting ones.

"You know what killed this man?" He questioned, although given Hadrian's earlier statement it was entirely unneeded. Appearances and all that.

"I do."

"Well what is it?"

"You don't need to know everything."

Sherlock mentally twitched and he tried absently to restrain himself, he really did. He didn't want to scare away such a pretty little thing that actually managed to hold half a wit to himself. It had been so long since he had been able to find anyone interesting in _that_ sort of way and he wanted to explore that idea but blast it – his curiosity, his absolute desire to know everything. The world was a game to him and he wanted to _win_. "I know you had an abusive childhood. Your caretakers beat and starved you regularly, but they stayed away from your face for the most part because you look remarkably similar to your birth mother. You don't have a high opinion of yourself, but you strive to make something more perhaps to prove them wrong-"

With those damnable words, Sherlock honestly expected to be punched.

Instead, Hadrian smirked. "And yet you don't know how Marcus Flint here died. The curiosity must be killing you."

Sherlock blinked, struck dumb. That was not the proper response. No one answered egging on like that in _that_ manner.

Watson was the first to jump on the open thread as Sherlock himself as in shock. "You know the victim?"

Hadrian nodded slightly, keeping his eyes on Sherlock as he spoke. "I knew all of them. Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, and Marcus Flint, in that order. We all went to the same boarding school."

"I will find out," Sherlock suddenly burst and again the room fell silent, this time awkwardly.

Hadrian smiled. "I'd like to see you try."

* * *

**A.N:** _Holy fuck that ended up being super long. :3 Anywho - Sherlock crossover for One Winged Tenshin and Raylen Ray. This is set just after episode 1 so~ I love this show. The characters are fun and multidimensional (something that's very hard to find these days) and it keeps to the spirit of Sir Doyle's Sherlock I think~_

_Anywho - Benedict Cumberbatch it the name of the actor who plays Sherlock and yes, I was poking fun at him. It was hard to find a stopping point on this one, it really was. The serial killer is killing off Slytherins~ oh mai! _

_Pokemon is still eating away at my soul - I didn't manage to download the Victory Pass cause I totally forgot about it, but I still have till like April to pick it up so I'm not bugging. Speaking of bugging, I LOVE ARTI. I refuse to call him Burgh, his original name was Arti and frankly that makes more sense to me. _

_Animeland Wasabi in three days~ hosh gosh I'm so not ready. I still have to finish up my wedding dress for the 18+ Hetalia panel. Oh yes, Belarus and Russia are getting married, married, married! :D _

**_MARRIED!_**


	15. Inuyasha 1 lawd

**Dear Heidifox,**

**I take your challenge and twist it ruthlessly into something beyond recognition.**

**~((Excellent Narrative Comrade!))**

* * *

Harry jumped lightly, looking around the large forest he had, for lack of a better term, magically found himself in. The place was huge and so thickly vegetated that there was barely a square inch of clear ground and almost no light to see by although the few rays which made it through the thick treetops told him it was midday. The air was moist and there was a _feeling_ in the air that was entirely foreign to him, a sort of power that he knew wasn't human but couldn't actually place.

What's more, he was being followed. Not once had Harry seen the _thing_ that was trailing after him but something in the very back of his mind was so convinced that there was something that he didn't feel like it was at all possible his paranoia was wrong.

He was going to kill Ron for bumping him down that well.

Harry sighed, a long silent exhale so he could hear in case the thing following him slipped up and made a noise of some sort, while pulling his cape closer about his body. It wasn't very long, although quite voluminous, coming to about his hips with an attached hood pulled up over his head. Most noticeably it was _red_, a bright, vibrant color approximately the shade of a ripe strawberry.

Hermoine had given it to him as a joke, a strange sort of spin off of a running joke between them born from his hair (which had progressively lightened and lightened as they spent more time out and about in the world) turning to a decidedly strange shade of red. Coupled with the fact that he hadn't a proper hair cut in nearly two years and he apparently looked far more like his mother, which lead to jokes of him being girly (not the sort of jokes he was all that receptive to considering how sensitive he was about his lack of height) which in turn made the strange leap to Little Red Riding Hood jokes.

Harry didn't quite understand the leap in logic, but sometimes with Hermoine it was better not too.

The whatever it was behind him stepped heavily on a thick stick and the resulting crack reverberated through the silence, slicing it easily.

Harry jumped a foot or so, turning his head quickly to search for the source.

"I-I know you're there!" He announced, eyes darting around frantically.

Through the trees came a laugh, dark and husky and entirely too smug.

The man, as the follower surely was, responded and it took Harry half a moment to realize the language he spoke in wasn't English.

Japanese.

Oh thank god, one he could actually talk to someone older than a three year old in.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, stepping lightly as he worked closer to where he knew his stalker was hiding despite the voice in the back of his head strictly urging him to stay away. "What did you say?"

The man did not answer, shuffling around just out of sight.

Harry swept red bangs out of his eyes, careful not to knock his glasses, and took another step forward. Through the tree he caught a brief glimpse of a dark brown ponytail and fur. "Um..." the young man bit his bottom lip softly. He wanted to prompt the other man out of hiding, if only to help protect his somewhat teetering sense of sanity. "My name's Harry. Who are _you_?"

Again the other man shifted, this time further into his view. He was very tan and very muscled, wearing fur and armor and a dark ponytail high on his head. With his light amber eyes and golden skin, the man had a decidedly wild look – further encouraged by his dangerous smirk and the wolfish shape of his eyes.

_Oh lord it was the big bad wolf._

"I said," the man's voice was husky. "My name is Kouga and you're mine."

Harry had half a second to wish he had listened to his paranoid voice that was still screaming run.

Then Kouga pounced.

* * *

**A.N:**_ I don't know. I honestly don't know._

_Anywho... um... I like cookies!_

_Also, to my fellow Pokemon fans - N's room is weird. O.o Like the sort of shit that gives me nightmares. Lord do I love Burgh though - he's so... I dunno. Flaming?_


End file.
